Author's Note : Enter the Xavier's. Italics = telepathy

Scene Five

"I'm telling you, Detective, that isn't me! I don't know who it is, and I know she looks like me, but it. Isn't. Me!" And with each punctuated word, Lisa Dunbarr flicked a still of CCTV footage showing her arrival at the office in the dead of night at the two detectives on the opposite side of the table. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Maybe the clock is out?"

"The system is top of the range, more to the point it's been checked over by the experts and its fine." Flack responded coldly. "You still wanna stay with this story?"

"It's not me, Detective Flack, I was at the Joy Club. Ask my friends – Elaine Kelsy and Gemma Cassidy, ask the Joy Club for their CCTV footage, I was there between about eleven and three am. Please, Detectives, you have to believe me!"

Mac held up a hand to silence Flack before he could speak again. He stood up to take a brief walk around their side of the interrogation room. He paused, eyes unwittingly meeting Stella's through the two-way mirror. He knew that she would send Hawkes, also behind the two-way mirror, for the footage. Mac's mind was working overtime. Instinctively, Mac was sure she was telling the truth, but then the evidence suggested otherwise...

"Can you explain this to me, Miss Dunbarr?" Mac collected up the stills that Lisa had flicked at Flack and showed her the crime scene photos of Senator Kelly's body with it's abnormal arms. Lisa's face betrayed confusion, as if she couldn't process what she was seeing, then disgust.

"Is that for real?"

"As hard as it is to believe, yes, these pictures are for real." Mac turned the picture so he was looking at it right way up for a moment. "What about this?"

Mac selected another picture, one of a large syringe with a long needle attached. He spun it to face Lisa, who looked blank and shook her head. When Mac informed her that her prints were all over it, she looked puzzled and distraught, shook her head over and over again. She denied ever seeing the syringe verbally and vehemently. When Flack looked at Mac, he simply nodded and jerked his chin toward the door.

"We'll look into your alibi, Miss Dunbarr." Flack beckoned to a uniformed officer stood outside the room who cuffed her and took her back to her cell. Less than thirty seconds later, Stella was in the room with the two men.

"You believe her." Stella's words were a statement, not a question. Mac simply shrugged. "Hawkes is on to the Joy Club now for footage. What are you thinkin', Mac?"

"I'm thinking she's telling the truth. Everything about her answers, her body language..."

"But the evidence says otherwise." Flack quoted Mac's own words at him. Mac shrugged again in response.

Mac and Stella went back to the Crime Lab, leaving Flack at the precinct. Stella immediately peeled off to see some of the lab techs about another case, and on the way to his office, Mac was accosted by three techs at once about separate cases. He tackled one quickly enough; she only needed his authorisation for a procedure via a signature and also received a smile for good measure. She peeled away from the group to continue her work. The second of the remaining techs began to argue with the third for Mac's attention, each talking over the other until they were trying to shout each other down.

"Enough!"

Mac's commanding voice, earned during his time with the Marines, echoed loudly throughout the suddenly silent lab. The two techs were stopped dead in their tracks, unmoving, and as Mac made to speak again to chastise them, his suddenly notice that the labs on either side of the corridor had stopped as well, and in the middle of what they were doing. Everything was as still as if it was a living photograph... Silence ruled the lab, something completely alien to Mac. Even in the dead of night there were always people working, machines beeping and so on. Mac stepped out from between the two techs, pacing a hesitant circle around them. This wasn't natural, something the scientist in him couldn't process. He touched one of their arms gently, then more firmly as there was no reaction to the initial touch. The tech rocked just a little from the pressure but failed to react in any other way. Mac might as well have been stood next to a mannequin. It was very unnerving for the practical, down-to-earth CSI.

Do not be concerned, Detective Taylor. A firm but low voice cut through the emptiness of the moment. Startled, Mac turned to see a man in an electric wheelchair coming towards him. The man was perfectly ordinary, his face showing that he was in his fifties, bald, his suit smart and well tailored. It was only when Mac met the man's eyes that he thought better of speaking. Those sharp blue eyes stung Mac, seeming to gaze straight into his soul. Mac forced himself to look away, and in doing so realised that the man was not alone.

One step behind the man's left shoulder was a tall, lithe woman with shining blonde hair, pulled back into a functional pony tail that reached her slim waist. She had the same, startling blue eyes as the man, who could only be her father. But there was a predatory glint to the eyes that snarled at him as his hand finally moved to his gun. She dropped her stance, ready to take the chance and rush him if he decided to pull the weapon free.

Mac considered his position for a moment, his team still frozen around him. He had no doubt that he could pull the weapon and let of a couple of shots before she could reach him, and yet he found himself wondering if that would stop her. Besides, the two of them were unarmed as far as he could see. The tension increased as he re-gripped his piece; her lips curled in the same moment and she let loose a feral snarl, not a human sound at all but something akin to a wild animal. He saw her shift her weight, ready to spring, until her father raised his hand. The snarl was silenced immediately, and her eyes met Mac's then, and as if by mutual consent she dropped her attack stance as he released his weapon, something he hadn't even consciously considered.

"Who are you?" Mac asked the question tersely, not liking the fact that his lab had been invaded and his team had become little more than a living – he hoped - waxworks. "What's wrong with my people?"

Time has paused for them for just a few moments. They will be fine. There was reassurance in the tone; Mac felt his fears ebbing away. I know you have questions, many questions, but time is of the essence. My name is Charles Xavier, and we have come here to ask for your help.

"My help with what?" Mac glanced about him, suddenly realising that none of his alpha team were present. He wondered where Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes and Adam were, if they too were stopped in their tracks, frozen in time. What was this?

"We need your help confirming Robert Kelly's killer, and to offer you our services in bringing the culprits to justice." Xavier announced, and Mac noticed that Xavier's voice was somehow older and mellower with those words, but his words enough to retain Mac's attention. "Perhaps we could step into your office?"

Mac paused long enough to study the pair of strangers in his lab, unsure if he was safe to turn his back on the woman who was still tensed, every inch of her expecting an attack, ready to pounce if necessary. As if she sensed his concern; perhaps something passed between them as his eyes met hers, he couldn't be sure; she stepped forward and around him to lead the way to his office. Unerringly, she walked ahead, as if she'd been there before, opened the door and held it, waiting for her father and Mac to enter.

Mac perched on his desk, gesturing for the woman to take a seat on one of the brown leather seats, which she refused with a cold look. Instead, she returned to her place behind her father's shoulder, hands clasped behind her back. She reminded Mac of a sergeant trailing after an officer, or perhaps a bodyguard. His eyes flicked to beyond the glass walls of his office to his team, and in that moment the lab burst back into life, the only two looking startled being the two techs who had been arguing in front of Mac and theirs was only bewilderment that their boss was suddenly in his office instead of berating them. Both, seeing that he was now occupied with visitors, went about their business. He smiled to see his team normal and active again.

"They are completely unaware of anything amiss, Detective, of that I can assure you. But I have been remiss; perhaps you will allow me to introduce my daughter, Ilehana Xavier?"

"Detective Taylor." She nodded to him, just once, a small smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

"Mac." He insisted quietly, not quite knowing why. He offered her his hand, which she shook, and that was the first moment he recognised almost shyness as she gripped his hand gently but firmly.

"Mac then." Again, a small smile flashed across her face, and Mac suddenly realised this woman was afraid of herself, of letting herself go. Interesting. But then she was all down to business, asking him "Tell me, Mac, what do you know of Robert Kelly?"

"Not much more than most." He admitted. "A senator, a man passionate about his work, his son was kidnapped and killed by some terrorists about 18 months back. He's been pretty much off the grid ever since, out of the media spotlight, working some special projects for the President, so the rumours say."

Again, there was that glance between the two Xavier's. Communication without words. Xavier senior turned back to Mac and sighed. "Those were no ordinary terrorists, Detective Taylor. They were mutants."